Mergers & Acquisitions
by QuasiOuster
Summary: Michonne's mysterious arrival at Daryl's company sparks an intriguing personal and professional relationship between the two. AU, non-zombie. The story mildly tracks the events of season three through the beginning of season 4.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I do not own any part of this franchise, nor to I expect or seek profit from my musings.**_

_**Here's another AU story that I've been noodling around with involving the politics of office relationships (with just a dash of corporate intrigue). Although it starts off sounding thriller-esque, the story mostly follows the connections that are made between Daryl and Michonne over time. **_

_**Fair warning: I'm not using my beta for this one (because I'm already making her slog through Muted and The Left Turn) and I'm still fiddling with the tone of this and some other technical things. If you're inclined, drop me a review and let me know what you think. Otherwise, thanks for reading and enjoy!**_

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**Chapter One**

Daryl strolled down the hallway, actually in a decent mood for once. The past few weeks, hell the past few months, had been hard and he actually had some good news to relay today.

Checking in with Rick's assistant, he discovered that his boss was in a meeting. Ms. Richards hadn't been Rick's secretary for long but she knew her job pretty well. According to her, although Rick hadn't said anything, she got the feeling he didn't want to be disturbed. Daryl frowned at that. If something was going down, then he should probably be there. He turned around and headed for the conference room.

As he stomped through the hallways of the complex, he nodded at the people he passed, still amazed that he fit in with all the suits and squares tucked away in their offices. He was sporting his usual casual attire. Unless it was absolutely necessary, there was no way he'd be caught wearing a tie or a dress shirt. He'd been raised in cheap hand-me-downs and scuffed shoes and there was only so much shine he could spray on himself before he felt like he was putting on airs.

He and his brother had originally agreed to work for AGD, The Atlanta Group Development, Incorporated, as a stepping stone, learn what they could about the business, maybe drum up some resources and contacts of their own and then take off to go solo. That's not now how it played out, though. Merle had shot his mouth off early on and got himself fired when Rick Grimes took over the operation. Daryl had been on the road on business when it happened and flew right off the handle when they told him about it upon his return. Still, he tried to go about fixing things by working with the new guy, Rick, to salvage his brother's plan. Too bad the old bastard took off before he got the chance. Merle was an asshole like that—he'd disappear for months when things got hot and then reappear with a trail of debt and dysfunction a mile long.

Daryl had been pissed about his brother leaving him. Again. But it ended up being the best thing that could have happened to him.

He stuck around to work for Rick since he hadn't figured out anything better to do. The two of them ended up getting on pretty good. He turned into Rick's right-hand man and had made a place for himself at the company. Rick knew how to work to his strengths. Daryl hated being in the office so his job mostly involved travelling to meet with vendors or scouting out sites. And the longer he stayed, the more responsibility he was given.

And it wasn't just Rick that had given him a fair shot.

Carol in HR took a real shine to him and they looked out for each other. They'd started around the same time, she coming from some shitty company that screwed her over and a home life that wasn't much better. AGD had meant a new job and a new life after she'd dropped her abusive, deadbeat husband and gotten her daughter away from him too.

He'd gotten on real well with T-Dog too after a rough start. From the way folks had explained things, T-Dog had a hand in Merle getting canned—but it had turned out to be more complicated than that. And Daryl wasn't used to hanging with folks who weren't like him, but he figured he'd have to adapt if he wanted to make things work at AGD. So strangely enough, he and T-Dog ended up being buddies. When the guy got laid off last week, Daryl had been pissed. T-Dog had busted his ass and sacrificed a lot so that AGD could get ahead. He didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

Even the young crowd had their charms. Glenn was a young upstart and had been working his way up the ladder. He and Maggie were both the best and the worst office hookup in the company. Maggie had signed on along with her dad, Hershel Greene, the new Board of Directors president after the previous year's big merger. Maggie now ran things in the sales department and her little sister Beth could be spotted around the office too, interning before going to college. He'd been wary of those gals at first being Hershel's kids, but they pulled their weight and were a kick to make fun of on occasion, along with Glenn.

The only person he hadn't gotten along with was Shane since the guy only saw him as a dumb redneck and was never willing to give him a chance. But he was long gone, fired by Rick himself despite their childhood friendship, and working for some company in London now. That situation reeked of all kinds of drama that would probably never come to light. Once Daryl figured out that Rick's wife Lori had been involved, he'd kept far away from that mess.

The past year hadn't been easy but things were finally looking up. Daryl planned on doing his part to keep it that way, which was why he needed to find out what was going down with Rick and this so-called meeting.

When he finally got to the conference room, the door was closed and he couldn't see much of anything through the partially frosted windows. There was little movement and he didn't hear much conversation either. He opened to door to see what new problem had found its way to their doorstep.

Everyone was silent and staring at each other when Daryl walked in. They barely registered his entrance.

Rick was glaring down at a woman Daryl had never seen before. His gaze swept over her dark skin and dreadlocked hair; she was younger than him, although not by much. And behind her guardedness, she looked pissed. The woman was seated, legs crossed and tense—but not over Rick's aggression. Her eyes cut to him in mild annoyance before scowling off into the distance again. Rick's son, Carl, stood by the door watching from afar with Hershel, keeping vigil on the scene as well.

"Who the hell's this?" Daryl asked.

Rick turned back to the woman, posturing and hoping it would intimidate her. Even Daryl, newly introduced into this ridiculous standoff, could see that it wasn't working.

"You wanna introduce yourself?" The woman kept her gaze fixed on Rick, not wanting to submit to his power play. She remained silent.

In response, Rick shook his head at Daryl, an indication that he'd fill him in later.

Whatever was going on with this stranger, it wasn't something that Rick needed added to his plate right now. His friend and boss had been tied into knots for the past few months, the accumulated pressure of running the company after the merger weighing on him along with recently losing his wife in childbirth. Not only was he dealing with her death but also the care of an infant and young boy. And the company had been in constant crisis mode, sending his stress levels through the roof. Everyone in the office could tell that the man was slowly losing his grip but no one wanted to rock the boat. Rick had been good to all of them and they were loyal.

Whatever negotiation had come to a standstill here, there were more important things going on right now and he needed to talk to Rick about them.

"Hey y'all come on out here," Daryl said pointing down the hall.

Rick finally broke his standoff with the woman. "Everything alright?" He scrutinized Daryl, trying to figure out if another crisis was waiting for him to manage.

Daryl nodded. "You gon' wanna see this."

Carol had gone on the same trip with T-Dog last week to the corporate office—T-Dog had been laid off and Carol's fate remained a mystery. Until just now. They'd speculated that Carol might have been forced to leave the company too but she was back to stay.

This woman, whoever she was, could wait.

The unknown interloper finally turned her eyes to him and he paused for a brief second at how much her piercing attention unnerved him. He stared back at her, sizing her up as she likewise assessed him. She looked stressed even if she tried to hide it behind a stoic demeanor. Still, she held herself together, he'd give her that. Her clothes had a distressed look to them as if she'd been traveling and living out of a suitcase for a while. Although she hadn't said a word, he was sure tangling with her was a bad idea, just judging by the steel in her expression and the straightness in her spine.

Maybe she was from the corporate office. They'd been poking around in AGD's affairs all too much lately. And it's not like he'd know her if that's where she came from. He stayed as far away from those assholes as he could.

"Go ahead," Rick said to the others in the room. "Carl, get the files." His son complied, taking his apprenticeship as seriously as he could. It turned out to be a good way to keep the boy busy as he worked through his grief. Rick likewise picked up the briefcase at the woman's feet. "I'll just hold onto this, keep it safe and sound. There's security on this floor and no one will get their hands on you or this information while we're gone. You're safe here. This deal that fell through, well, we can fix that. But you need to think a little harder about how you wanna play this."

The woman sighed and looked around, finally showing signs of feeling like a caged animal with so many aggressive eyes on her. Yet instead of folding, she squared her shoulders and doubled down. "I didn't ask for your help."

"Doesn't matter." Rick backed away to finally join him at the door. "We can't let you leave."

Carl and Hershel had already shuffled out the door and Daryl moved away to let Rick pass as well. Being the last one out of the room, he pulled the door closed behind him but not before peering into her face again. It was defiant. Apprehensive, but also unyielding. She had secrets alright. Whether she'd give them up was anyone's guess.

He'd be sure to wish Rick luck with this one.

With one last wary glance her way—one that was met with a scowl—he closed the door behind him, locking her inside.

TBC ...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Michonne sat in the office and stewed. She kicked herself for the moment of weakness, bringing those files to the company in whose hands she was now pretty much a prisoner, beholden to them physically if not professionally if she didn't play her cards right.

She cursed Andrea once again for her gullibility. There wouldn't be a mess for Michonne to clean up right now if her partner had just followed Michonne's lead as they had been doing for months. Her instincts had kept them afloat, and the least her former friend could have done was allow them to escape to safe ground so she they could regroup. Instead, Andrea's betrayal remained a rancid taste in Michonne's mouth.

That impasse began the series of events that led to her sitting in this stifling, hostile conference room trying to salvage the only few leads she possessed in the midst of too many setbacks. It was true she hadn't asked for this man Rick's help. But she may as well have, given the information she offered and the dire state of her affairs right now, unaffiliated and pursued by a big company with the resources to destroy her if they caught wind of what she knew.

And now that she had a little bit of knowledge, she'd use it to take Woodbury down. Her motivations had turned personal.

She hadn't even worked for the company; Woodbury's scouts had stumbled upon her freelancing services with her partner Andrea. Former partner. They'd wined and dined them in an attempt to bring them into the fold of their organization. But Michonne rather liked freelancing. Sure, it was difficult sometimes, but it felt like the only lifestyle she could handle right now. The freedom and flexibility it gave her was exactly what she needed after … everything.

However, Andrea had always longed for the days when she worked for something grander than their modest setup, always waxing poetic about the fancy offices and perks and networking. Michonne could tell that she enjoyed the attention of being wooed by Woodbury and seeing all the bright, shiny resources that could be at their disposal if they decided to sign on. Or sell out as Michonne saw it.

And Andrea had definitely been sold once the CEO Philip Blake had turned his attention towards her. "The Governor" of Woodbury wouldn't be denied.

But Michonne used her time at Woodbury not to sip wine at well-choreographed social events but to do some due diligence on the place when no one was looking. What she found was disturbing. Red flag after red flag. When Blake's security thugs caught her deep in their compliance files, the man himself sat her down and gave her the hard sell, laced with about five layers of bullshit and three shades of subtext. When that didn't work, he resorted to threats and overt sexual harassment, daring her to prove to anyone that he was in the wrong.

No, that place was not as it seemed.

There remaimed no more convincing for her. She thought Andrea would trust her. Maybe Andrea expected the same loyalty. Who knows? It didn't matter because they'd both made their choices and would have to live with them.

Except that Andrea was probably right now popping champagne and flirting with the head honcho of a powerful company, and she was running for her personal and professional livelihood because Blake had taken her rejection personally.

And that's how she'd found herself here, meeting with this small outfit, a subsidiary company of a far-away conglomerate. AGD wasn't necessarily a rival of the mid-sized Woodbury, but the business could be construed as a potential threat if the people running Woodbury got their minds set on it.

Her agitation increased with each second that ticked by and the mysterious cadre of men investigating her did not reappear. She could wait them out, though. She had nothing to lose at this point.

Finally, the head guy, Rick Grimes, returned with the older gentleman and the scruffy man who'd interrupted them earlier. The white-haired executive seemed reasonable enough, or at least willing to listen. Grimes, not so much. The man was keyed up, beyond what the situation called for in her opinion, but she obviously didn't know him like that to try and diagnose his problem.

The newest addition was definitely not an office type, nor did he sit right as corporate security. Instead of business casual, he wore a leather jacket over a well-worn button-down shirt, untucked. His scuffed up boots peeked out from the ratty hem of his faded work pants. You could tell there was a grit to him by his harsh scrutiny and the sturdiness of his swagger. She wondered what his role in the operation was other than goon. Nevertheless, she wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating him.

They did not return with her briefcase or the files she noticed, although he'd set her laptop on the table next to her. The custom cover flickered and sparkled under the fluorescent lights of the conference room.

"We can fix some of your hardware, the laptop and flash drive. We'll even throw in some contacts in the next town over before we send you on your way. But you're gonna have to tell us how you found out what we're working on. And why you were carrying around the exact research we were set to get our hands on."

The leader's words were definitely threatening. The goon stood to her side and slightly behind her to keep her off-balance. He certainly seemed tough but he didn't scare her. The older man remained at a distance, taking her in. She still sensed no hostility from him, only cautious curiosity.

Michonne shrugged. It wasn't her problem if they had a security leak. "I found those files when I was passing through a site down the road on business. A young Asian man left them when he had to run out in a hurry. He was with a young, white woman too at the time. A pretty girl."

The older man finally stepped forward, his hand a bit unsteady on his cane. "Were they attacked?" he asked, tense.

She cut her eyes to him. "They were escorted away. Back to Woodbury I'd guess."

"Escorted," Rick accused, as if she had had something to do with it. "By who?"

Michonne clenched her teeth. "By the same son of a bitch who messed up my gear." Her rage flared yet again picturing Merle, the vile, meatheaded asshole who'd damaged her equipment. Her laptop carried her life on it, the information backed up, of course, but the machine itself a customized construction that it had taken months to complete and even longer to master.

Meanwhile, it seemed her new information struck a nerve with the man in front of her as well.

"Hey, these are our people. You tell us what happened to them. Now!" He got in her face and grabbed her laptop, threatening to destroy whatever was inside.

Michonne exploded. She shoved the larger man away from her and grabbed her property. "Don't you ever touch me or my things ever again!"

That's when the silent goon, who had hovered at a close distance, finally stepped right up to her personal space, although he didn't cross it. "You better start talkin'," he threatened, a gruff, hostile drawl, "or you gon' have a much bigger problem than some broken computer parts."

She directed her attention to him and let him know, clearly and unequivocally, that she was not the kind of woman that you fuck with, especially when backed into a corner like this. "Find him yourself." The man glared at her and took another step forward, his guard still up. Michonne was unmoved.

Although Rick Grimes was quick to calm the man down, the seamless challenge this stranger had given her proved that he wasn't the kind of person you fuck with either.

Still, Rick intervened, coming between the two of them as they squared off. Even as the man backed off, she kept him within her sight, both wary and incited. She held his focus until he relaxed his posture and Rick completely blocked him from her. The new smugness he wore stirred feelings of concern.

"You came here for a reason." Did she? Or was it just blind instinct.

Pushing down her annoyance and suspicious nature, she figured he did have her where he probably wanted her. She could talk a big game, square off with these three alpha men, but she was at a disadvantage and she knew it. And it's not like she wanted to doom those kids she'd seen taken away. They were probably just minding their own business before crossing the wrong path at the wrong time, strolling right into some serious trouble courtesy of the Governor and his legion of predators.

She needed to come clean on this, at least partially. Whatever happened after, she'd deal with as it came.

"There's a company called Woodbury. Maybe 75 employees. I think it was their men who caught up to your people and probably took them back to their offices.

"A competitor? Out here?" She could sense the agitation creeping back into him.

"It's run by a man who calls himself the Governor. Pretty boy. Charming. Jim Jones type."

"He got muscle," the goon asked. He was sharp, she'd give him that. And he knew how to ask the right questions.

"Better than rent-a-cops but still only corporate wannabes. They have decent safeguards on the property."

"You know a way in?" She saw the intent start to creep into this leader's frantic eyes.

"The place is safe enough from your usual troublemakers in the area but we could probably slip our way through."

Rick's face straightened as if he was already forming a plan of attack. "This is Hershel, the father of the girl who was taken. He'll take care of your equipment; get someone from IT to take a look at it."

He turned and nodded to his redneck sidekick and they left the room without another word. No telling what to make of that.

Michonne turned to the older gentleman. Hershel. She silently handed over her equipment in a show of good faith—and a gesture of sympathy for his situation. No doubt, the information she revealed created a good deal of worry for him, and she could relate to that. She no longer had such concerns in her life but you never really forgot what it felt like to endure it.

True to the man's word, Hershel got IT to fix her computer, sitting silently in his corner the entire time. He didn't look like he was up for much corporate espionage, but he had a way about him, for sure, a clear authority and one Michonne instantly respected. After a while, the young boy, a child really, joined them. She figured from the earlier interaction that he was Rick's son. He was silent, but sharp. Inscrutable like his father.

When the last of the IT people left and Michonne confirmed that her computer was in working order again, she glanced over at Hershel who now looked so tired. He had the look of a man preparing himself for the worst.

She couldn't dwell on that kind of look, yet she'd do her best to keep the worst from happening to him if she could.

Outside the door, which stood ajar, she heard voices talking. A moment later, Grimes and his goon walked into the room followed by a young girl and an older woman. Michonne sized up the new faces and then turned back to their leader. In his hand was her briefcase.

"Let's go," he said, and walked out without waiting for her to comply. Michonne stood and glanced around the room. Everyone seemed just as on edge and uncertain as she, but committed to following Rick Grimes' lead.

Grabbing her briefcase and stowing away her gear, she followed.

TBC ...

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**_AN: I'm going to try to get another couple of chapters up today to offer a better feel for the story but we'll see how that goes. _**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Daryl watched from afar as the new woman, Michonne, emerged from her heavily surveilled office separate from the rest of the staff. He'd requested that she be placed in that space so he could keep an eye on her. She had a coffee mug in hand as she strolled down the hall towards the breakroom. His instincts wanted him to follow her and make sure she wasn't about to start any trouble, but he had bigger fish to fry than that cold, hardass of a woman.

It had been a hell of a month since he'd first set eyes on her, and so much had happened in that time. In his modest office, he turned to see what his brother was up to and frowned at catching him marking up his desk with the sharp edge of his pen cap. He was happy to see his brother, but his presence also stirred up a whole nest of problems for him and the situation he'd built up at AGD.

And it all started when Michonne had arrived at their doorstep.

He threw a balled up piece of paper at his brother. "Man, cut that shit out. Somebody paid good money for that desk."

Merle scoffed. "Then somebody paid good money for a piece 'a shit then." He continued to carve something into the polished wood. "And you shut the hell up. You aint the boss 'a me, I don't care how far up Boss-Man Friendly's ass you are."

Daryl rolled his eyes and went back to planning his next scouting trip. Merle's harsh words had long ago stopped affecting him.

After learning from Michonne that their people had been snatched up, Rick got a group together to take care of business. She'd led them to Woodbury, snuck them in a back entrance and they strolled around the complex until they found the security office. Sure enough, Glenn and Maggie had been there, locked in a room with the threat of legal action and corporate takeovers if they didn't spill company secrets. Rick had almost come unhinged at the scene, wanting to spout off a few threats of his own but having no time for retaliation.

But the biggest shock happened when Glenn revealed that Merle served as the head of security at the facility. Daryl's own brother had been the main antagonist, brow-beating Glenn for what he perceived were wrongs done against him by AGD, and allowing the Governor to intimidate Maggie to the point of tears and panic. It made him sick that his brother could be involved in that, but it didn't actually surprise him.

That turned out to only be the beginning of the adventure.

They'd tried walking out of the Woodbury complex but, of course, security cornered them and more threats surfaced. Daryl had been conflicted, almost beyond reason. He wanted to go find his brother and clear things up. If he could just talk to Merle, they'd work something out like family did. Yet Glenn was adamant that Merle was no friend of theirs. Rick felt for him, Daryl could tell, but he had to worry about the company and Merle was too much of a wild card. They needed to get their people out and then worry about the rest later.

So they'd run. Except Daryl got snatched up holding off security and learned first hand what a prick the Governor was. After throwing him in one of their fancy conference rooms so he could make an example of him, the man turned on Merle and threatened to have them both arrested before Rick returned with a diversion to ensure their escape from the building.

It became a harsh lesson in why relying on his brother was bound to backfire.

Rick didn't want Merle back at AGD, said that he'd cause too many problems. Glenn refused to even look at his former captor much less agree to his return to the company. Merle did nothing to help his case, making snide remarks and being the all-around asshole that he was.

Meanwhile, bringing Merle into the fold meant that Michonne came face to face with the man who'd assaulted her. She'd flipped her shit and Merle egged her on, as usual. That's when they found out about her former partner and their former colleague, Andrea, who'd been transferred and then laid off soon after the big merger that had brought Hershel and his people into the fold. It was a damn small world.

Daryl couldn't turn his back on Merle and Rick couldn't allow Merle into the company after all that had gone down amongst them. With that impasse, Daryl had quit on the spot, determined to pick family over business. It felt terrible but that's what a Dixon did. He wasn't going to just walk away from Merle.

Of course, that new arrangement had lasted less than a week as he and his brother fought non-stop about how to go about setting up a new gig and Merle thinking it was okay to run scams when Daryl knew they could make plenty of money and contacts playing people square. Their first disastrous client meeting and the ensuring fallout had Daryl practically running back to AGD.

So much baggage got stirred up in the process and Daryl finally got to admit to Merle what he'd felt for a long time—that Merle was a pretty shitty brother.

When he'd returned to AGD it turned out to be good timing. The company was up to its eyeballs in summonses and restraining orders courtesy of Woodbury. Daryl immediately jumped back in and started helping to put out fires, even got Merle to lend a hand too given his prior knowledge of their adversary.

And he'd been surprised to see Michonne still at the office, using her legal skills to keep the Governor at bay too. He wasn't going to complain but he'd for damn sure keep an eye on her. He spotted her returning to her office, stirring the contents of her mug. He swore she'd cut her eyes in his direction as she passed but he couldn't be sure.

"What 'yall do around here for fun," Merle whined. "It's too damn quiet."

Daryl shuffled around the files on his desk until he found the one he needed. "It's called work, Merle. Go have fun on your own goddamn time."

Merle propped his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I'll go find me a cute little secretary to chat up. The pickin's here aint as grand as back at Woodbury but a man could find some prospects in these hallways."

"Don't even think about it," Daryl warned, looking up from his paperwork. "The last thing you need is a damn sexual harassment complaint. I vouched for you so you could stay here. Don't fuck this up for me."

"Alright, alright, little brother. Don't get you panties all in a twist. I aint gonna ruin your little bitch gig here. It's got its uses. Besides, I can't get a job anywhere else with the way the Governor blackballed me. Shoulda known he'd do me like that."

"Yeah, you shoulda. Serves you right working for that psychopath." Daryl pulled out his expense report file. "You apologize yet? To Glenn and to Michonne?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it," Merle said, dismissing Daryl with a flick of his wrist while twirling in his chair. "All in good time. They aint goin' nowhere."

Daryl sighed. "Don't matter. Stop stalling and just get that shit over with. The sooner you do it, the easier it'll be."

Merle turned towards him. "Why do you even give a shit? It's not like you and my Nubian Queen down there are even buddies. Unless you started swingin' some way I don't know about." He dropped his legs to the floor and then leaned forward to fix his stare on Daryl. Getting a frown for a reaction, Merle glanced absently down the hall towards her office. "Though she _is_ a tasty lookin' piece of dark meat and a wild little thing too, goin' by that temper 'a hers. A man could get ideas—you know, when his options start slimmin' down." Daryl didn't bother responding to his bullshit comments. He was done playing the ignorant, redneck racist; it had never been part of him in the first place regardless of how backwards Merle and his dad were.

And he didn't know that woman Michonne in that way. Even if he did, she hardly seemed his type, not that he was even interested in fooling with some female right now. There was too much shit to get done at AGD.

But at the same time, he wouldn't deny that she was a nice looking woman. There was something about her unwavering fierceness that he thought was kind of hot too. Her intensity held his attention sometimes and, despite being suspicious of her still, he could feel himself getting won over by the way she went after everything that had been asked of her. And he couldn't ignore that she really knew how to fill out a tight pair of pants and low-cut top either. She moved so damn smooth and silent, with purpose; a hunter like him. He'd thought so just now seeing her wander to and from her office.

If they did hook up, they'd probably have great sex.

Not that he figured it would be worth it. He already had Carol riding him about his love life—or lack thereof. He didn't want to add an office affair to the mix. And it didn't matter because it's not like she was sticking around after they got things squared away over this Woodbury situation. Before he could stop himself, he thought that reality a shame since she seemed to be good at what she did.

"As for your other buddy," Merle continued, "the Chinese guy—excuse me, the Korean guy?" Daryl glared over at him from across the office. "That guy's been avoidin' me, so it's not even like I gotta chance to say nothin' to him."

Daryl shook his head. "Try harder. If I'd asked you to score some meth or get into some waitress's panties, you'd 'a done it yesterday."

"Well, now you're talking. I can't get my hands on one 'a these cute secretaries I may as well get my fun somewhere." Merle kicked at the desk and stood.

"Now wait a second—"

Merle laughed. "Gotcha good there, little brother. These squares got your balls all shriveled up and pussified. You really need to loosen up. All I'm 'a do is mosey down the hall and give it to your girl, Michonne. Throw that ole Dixon charm and reason on her."

"I best call security then and save her the time and trouble." He didn't look up as he pulled out another file to skim through. He hated this paperwork crap but it had to be done if he wanted to get out on the road the next day. "And she aint my girl. Stop talking shit and go make things right with people here. Then maybe you'll be given something to do besides workin' my damn nerves."

"Yeah, yeah." The older man shuffled out of the office and down the hall. He stopped at Michonne's door for a second and then disappeared inside.

If he didn't hear a ruckus or see Merle reemerge within three minutes, he'd know that the woman had probably killed him. Daryl grinned a little at that and then went back to his work.

TBC ...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Michonne sat in AGD's courtyard by herself, still reeling from Andrea's unexpected visit. She wished she could say it was good to see her old friend. However, the experience had only made her sad and more anxious than ever.

Andrea was in way over her head and didn't even know it.

It's not that she wanted anything bad to happen to Andrea. But there was only so much you could do to open someone's eyes to the monsters lying in wait for them. Andrea had made her choice when she'd walked in on Michonne's confrontation with the Governor, the man's personal hard drive destroyed (except for the copy she'd lifted) along with many of the physical files he kept in his office that served as a cover for his more sinister dealings. In the corner, a stash of guns and drugs spilled onto the floor. The evidence had been all around them, at her feet, within her fingertips, right in front of her face.

Except Andrea had closed her eyes to it all because the Governor offered stable, albeit ethically suspect work, cool fringe benefits and a comfortable bed.

After all of that, it didn't seem right for her to come strolling into the AGD offices, talking about truces and collaborations she wasn't even authorized to offer. Hell, she'd only been at Woodbury a short time and she acted like she ran the place. But it wasn't her hubris that had Michonne so upset—that was something she actually found endearing about her old friend. What did not sit well with her was Andrea's willingness to believe the worst of her; to think that she'd left Andrea over petty jealousy and pride after everything they'd been through together. it stung to hear accusations of spreading lies and sabotage when it was Andrea's new confidante that had wreaked havoc and continued to put his Woodbury employees at risk with his shady dealings and power plays. She hoped that revealing how The Governor had sent Merle to "neutralize" her provided something to think long and hard about as Andrea figured out her next move and rationalized how her loyalties and good intentions would play out.

Maybe Andrea had been projecting her own shortcomings or she really was that naïve. It didn't matter because it still hurt.

Michonne swiveled around to lean back against the picnic bench and sighed. Approaching footsteps broke into her thoughts. She watched as Daryl Dixon spotted her and then walked carefully towards her.

She didn't know what to make of Rick's "goon", his right-hand man and the brother of the bastard who had terrorized her only a few weeks before. He was gruff, cranky and suspicious but she could tell that he was loyal to Rick, despite the field trip he'd gone on with his brother. Although he was pulling double-duty on the chaos currently unfolding with the Governor, he usually handled most of the site visits and vendor appraisals for the company, and she could see why he'd be good at it. It was straightforward work and he knew his stuff. The foremen who usually operated those areas for clients responded way better to men like Daryl than a lot of other corporate types, including Rick.

And she'd be a lying fool not to admit that Daryl Dixon had a pretty sexy way about him. His charm came from having no idea how appealing he appeared to those pulled in by his quiet attractiveness. He had a solid, muscular build packed into a lean, powerful body. There was a sweetness to the way he interacted with Carol and Beth or the playfulness with Glenn. He normally ran around the office in his dirty work clothes but when the man cleaned himself up, he turned into a sight to behold.

She'd entertained thoughts of maybe acting on her interest but, even if she thought him a normal enough guy, he still seemed like a good ole boy, especially if his brother was anything to go by. And it wasn't as if she'd be around for long to capitalize on the impulse either.

Michonne actually liked AGD, more so than she would have expected. It was a subsidiary that functioned like a small business. The people were hard-working and mostly nice. Decent. However, with Rick Grimes running things, she didn't see herself having much of a chance of staying. She was trying to make herself useful, both because they had common goals and because she had no better alternative. Yet she also aimed to prove to them how useful she could be in case she wanted to linger for a while before going back out on her own. So far, Rick seemed pretty set on her presence being a temporary one and booting her out at soon as they cleared up this Woodbury business. Michonne had good reason to believe Hershel would go to bat for her but everyone knew it was Rick's call.

Daryl was carrying a file and, when he eventually stood next to her, dropped it by where her arm rested on the table.

"Rick wants you for a run tomorrow. Told me to drop off the info and make sure you're ready."

Michonne's temper flared a little at that. "I don't need a nanny to tie my shoes for me. Just tell me what I need to do and I'll get it done."

Instead of getting mad, the man grinned a little, the slightest upturn to his mouth. "That's the way things work for everybody 'round here. Rick's got Hershel preppin' him before goin' on the road. I get Carol breathin' down my neck and you're stuck with me." He didn't seem all that upset with babysitting duty for which Michonne was grateful.

"Your brother must love that," she challenged.

"He aint the boss 'a me. Although I'm kinda the boss 'a him these days. Talk about pissed off." Again with that adorable grin. She could get used to seeing this side to him.

"You coming too?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Naw. Carl's gonna tag along though. It aint too early for the boy to learn something and he seemed to take an interest since you'll be hittin' up Rick's old worksite."

Michonne nodded. So Rick was opting to keep her close. Interesting. She could handle the leader's suspicions. She wondered how the boy's presence would change things though. There were times she'd spot the younger Grimes around the office and it always pulled at her heart. The kid was clearly struggling, still trying to make sense of his mother's death she'd heard from the gossip mill. It made her want to reach out and connect with him, let him know that he's not alone and would get through this.

Picking up the folder, she flipped through it and then set it down again. Daryl still stood in front of her. Michonne looked up at him, curious as to why he'd remained at her side, looking so serious.

"You go over that and drop by 'fore the end of the day to make sure you got what you need." Nodding again, Michonne stared off into the distance, the silence stretching as Daryl stood his ground. When she didn't engage him further, he shuffled and kicked at the ground a little. "Hey, you okay?"

Her head snapped back to him, trying to judge his intentions. He seemed sincere enough and he made no move to leave. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he was trying to dig up dirt about her and Andrea after what had gone down at the meeting earlier.

Daryl finally took a step back. "Hey, I'm just askin'. Aint no skin off my back. It's just shit got intense earlier is all."

"Well, I'm not going to jump ship and run off if that's what you're getting at." Now she was pissed. She got that she was on probation or whatever but she'd done a lot to prove her worth in these last few weeks and didn't appreciate the suspicion.

"Good to know," Daryl fired back. "And if I'd been worried 'bout that I would'a said so. I aint like you fancy lawyers. I say exactly what I mean."

Michonne stared at him and tried to calm herself. Maybe she had read the situation wrong, but no one could blame her for that. In truth, she couldn't trust anyone right now. But if she wanted to hedge her bets, she couldn't afford to be a jerk to people either.

"Sorry. I'm just a little on edge after everything. And I'm okay," she added, offering a small smile.

Daryl used that as in invitation and took a seat next to her. "Me and Andrea weren't best buds or nothin' but we got along before. I guess I didn't expect things to go like that either. Thought maybe she'd see reason."

She smirked over at him after a beat. "Nice tactic, threatening to burn down the rest of the Governor's private stash the next time you see him."

"You liked that, did you?" he replied, humor in his eyes. "The man's going down. We may be smaller and newer but he aint just gon' get away with tryin' to push us around."

"Good," Michonne said. "I've known men like him and they're a disease." She recalled trying to explain that to Andrea and it falling on willfully deaf ears. "I don't even understand why he's bothering with AGD. It's not like you're even in the same industry." Woodbury mostly dealt with technological product development, lots of copyright and patent work in addition to R&D. AGD worked mostly with industrial processes for farms—most of their business was with small agricultural companies and farming communities. There was no reason to feel threatened by anything going on with AGD. They could both live peacefully without worrying about the other infringing on any profit shares or their respective client bases.

Daryl scoffed. "He's fuckin' with us because he can. Aint much more complicated than that. All my life, I've known men like that too, including my brother." Michonne conceded the point.

They sat in silence, soaking up the warmth of the afternoon. There were only a few people milling around. She could see part of the parking lot in the distance and spotted Merle's motorcycle propped up at the curb beside Daryl's truck. She wondered if Daryl had the urge to wander over and just take off for the day, leave all this madness behind for a few hours. The thought had certainly crossed her mind.

"I don't know what's up with this trip tomorrow but I'd mind my Ps and Qs if I were you. You been doin' your part 'round here. Aint nobody gon' deny that. But if you wanna stick around, you gon' have to win over a few more folks."

She wondered about his 'a few more' comment. Did that mean that he trusted her, that she'd won him over? Since returning from their adventure out at Woodbury, she'd gotten along fine with Hershel and his daughters. She regularly worked with Glenn who, along with Maggie, was grateful to her for alerting the others when they'd been taken by Merle and Woodbury's other security thugs. Merle's continued presence was a sore spot for the both of them, despite Merle's ridiculous attempt at an apology (Glenn was still waiting for his). The woman from HR, Carol, was suspicious but not overly hostile. And there was still Rick. The man was clearly going through some stuff right now from what she'd seen and heard.

But she hadn't hoped to win over the quiet, rugged second-in-command, especially given her sour relationship with his brother. It seemed simply too generous to hope for, despite the advice he'd just freely given.

She turned his words over in her mind again. "Is that a warning?"

Her tone was more casual than defensive and Daryl picked up on that. "Just a suggestion." He propped himself up and walked off, a glance towards the parking lot before heading back to the building's entrance.

Picking up the folder that he'd left, she raised herself up as well, determined to get over her bad mood and get back to work. When she met up with Daryl later, she wanted to be prepared. If she hadn't already earned his trust, she wanted to at least put herself in the best possible position to make her case.

He'd given her a lot to think about.

TBC ...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Michonne turned into the AGD parking lot and felt the mood in the car retract back into a sobering focus.

As they'd traveled mile after mile through the deserted countryside, she, Rick and Carl had stayed preoccupied with their individual thoughts. It hadn't been a pleasant road trip, per se, but it had been productive. The trunk and back seat were filled with information they could use to fight Woodbury, and getting out of town had freed something in both father and son. For Michonne, well, she'd tried being a team player for the sake of her future. She wanted to hope that her sincere efforts made an impact.

"Seems like we've been gone a week and not just a day," Rick said from beside her.

He turned in his seat, allowing her to take in his strained attempt at humor. At least his failed levity came off better than the constant edge he straddled since that first meeting with him.

Michonne parked the car and killed the engine. "It does. We've got a lot to show for it though. Maybe enough to quiet some of those ghosts following us, even for a little while." Her soft voice floated within the quiet car, sure and promising to her ears.

Rick met her gaze, and his eyes sharpened in understanding, the blue hue tired but clearer than she'd seen in a while. Determined. She offered a guarded smile in return. He nodded his slight acknowledgment and then unclipped his seatbelt. Carl watched their exchange closely without comment and followed his dad out of the car.

Her hope shifted again, expanded against the tight reign she tied around such emotions. The moment she and Rick shared back at his old company, King Consolidated, could mean everything for her future at AGD.

They'd all gone through something intense during the trip. Although she'd tried to play it strategic throughout the visit, she finally called him out on the weight he shouldered. Perhaps he was truly unaware how deeply he wore his guilt and powerlessness. She recognized the signs: the sleeplessness and irritability, the staring out into the distance as if seeking answers from some unknown and unseen confidante. Whispers of those long ago conversations with her ex clambered to the forefront of her consciousness before she could lock it back down.

She'd wondered if her concern would backfire, yet she took the chance to let him know that stress got the better of all of them sometimes, even her. It hadn't scared her to share that with him; she was already on thin ice at the company. But she wished there'd been someone to help her make sense of that darkness when she'd been at her lowest point, when she only had herself and her memories for comfort. It pained her to see such a familiar hurt in his eyes, and she couldn't turn her back on that. If he ended up rejecting her concerns, so be it.

He hadn't rejected her, though, and seemed surprisingly accepting of her simple words of validation. He had joked with her, even, and offered her the keys to the car with a comment about how she had better eyes for the road. He was liable to see things that weren't there, he'd quipped.

As soon as they walked into the building, Rick was immediately called into a meeting on some emergency which left Michonne and Carl to wander to their spaces on their own. Except Carl had offered to help her unpack the boxes of documents they'd collected and deliver them to their respective destinations: personnel files to Carol, sales receipts to Maggie, compliance records to Glenn and vendor contracts to Daryl. No one had been in their office so Michonne wondered if they were all in on the same emergency meeting that had pulled Rick in upon their arrival. Once everything had found its proper owner, she locked up the company car after taking out the last of their loot—a box of her own to look through. That is what Carl carried as he followed her to her office.

Carl put the box onto the extra chair in the corner, the only free space in the tiny closet of an office they'd given her. He lingered as she placed her own packages and briefcase on the desk. She booted up her computer, checked her phone for a blinking message light and then sat at the edge of the desk, looking at the extra work they'd brought back, all while Carl tracked her silently.

The meeting at Rick's old company, newly sold by AGD's parent group, had been a tense one. They'd thought going in that the place had been cleared out except for a skeleton staff and the materials earmarked for AGD that related to the former company's dealings with Woodbury. But when they showed up, they were met by Rick's former colleague, Morgan Jones, who hadn't been told of their arrival, nor was he exactly pleased to see them. At first, Michonne thought they would be forced to retreat and come back with the authority of a few more lawyers. It was Carl, surprisingly, that had softened Morgan up for them, and then Rick managed to talk him down long enough to get the information Morgan was willing to give up.

That's when things really got interesting.

Michonne had heeded Daryl's comments about the trip being a test. Carl hadn't been happy to have her on the road trip, probably pissed that she was invading on his father-son bonding time. When they'd stopped for gas, she'd overheard him complaining as Rick offered half-hearted excuses. She couldn't decide how much to care, although the acid to the young boy's words stung. The boss had asked her to do a job, so she'd do it, yet she didn't want to come between the two of them—and something was definitely brewing with the Grimeses. What, she couldn't really say.

The boy had insisted on wandering the practically abandoned King Consolidated building under some pretense, but the kid had been up to something, even if Rick remained too distracted to recognize it. She'd volunteered to keep an eye on him and left Rick to deal with Jones. There remained something about Carl that she couldn't shake, an impulse to protect him. So when he'd given her the slip to try and hack into the computer system and get the files they needed, she gave him the space to do what he needed to do and then shut him down once he got in over his head. The boy was smart and felt a need to prove something to his dad it seemed. But he was still just a kid who desperately wanted someone in his corner after all the sadness and stress he'd endured lately. They'd felt that kinship when they'd worked together to accomplish this extra task on their own, one that Rick would come to appreciate down the line.

With the satisfaction of their team effort dulling around the edges as time passed, Carl now stood at her office doorway looking a bit lost.

Michonne smiled. "What's up, Carl?"

He shifted his gaze to and away from her, quickly and shyly. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just wanted to say thanks for saving my butt back there. Sorry I was being such a jerk before."

Shrugging, Michonne set her cell phone on the desk and turned back to him. "Well, you don't know me that well, so it's understandable. I'm not that bad though." She tried meeting his eyes, and finally he steadied his attention on her and smirked a little.

"That was pretty cool how we got past all those firewalls."

She laughed. "It was. Next time, maybe you won't be so eager. But you'll get there pretty soon, as much as your dad will hate that." They both grinned. "Not that there'll be a next time." She winked and he pulled the flash drive from his pocket and turned it over in his hands. "I know we have hard copies of all that stuff, but I'm sure your dad wouldn't mind seeing what you were up to back there." Rounding to her desk chair, she watched as Carl nodded absently and backed out of the office towards his dad's.

Michonne smiled more broadly. The kid would be okay.

At Carl's departure, Michonne decided to take care of only a few more things before leaving for the day. She was tired, having been up before the sun so they could make good time on the road. Maybe she'd take a bath tonight, she thought, and started musing about how she could relax once she finally left the office.

A knock at her doorframe caused her to raise her head with a scowl at the interruption. Anyone's presence this late in the day usually meant she wasn't getting home anytime soon.

Daryl stood in the doorway, shoulders squared against her displeasure but not backing off. "What's crawled up your ass?" He walked in and moved the box from her chair before turning it around to straddle it in his usual, off-the-cuff fashion.

She relaxed, but only a bit. She and Daryl had reached a mutual understanding and distanced respect for each other, but that didn't mean she fully trusted him. Still, his prep materials and their pre-travel meeting had been useful—she might not have been able to help Carl hack into those databases without the information Daryl had provided her. The man seemed to want to give her a fair shake.

And his appearance right now rather amused her since he was sporting dress pants and a tucked in, button-down shirt. At the late hour, the sleeves were rolled up and it partially hung out on the side; the tie he'd probably sported was long since removed. But even without the crispness of a suit, she had to admit that the man cleaned up nicely. She wondered what item on his agenda today warranted the rare appearance as a civilized professional in Rick's absence.

He caught her taking in his attire and his expression dared her to tease him about it. She put her hands up defensively, letting him know she wouldn't start anything if he didn't.

"Nothing's crawling up anywhere. Just not looking forward to dealing with whatever nonsense you're coming at me with at 4:00 in the afternoon." She cocked her head to the side, challenging him to surprise her.

Daryl leaned against the chair back. "Fair enough. Just got out of a meeting with Rick and Hershel. Blake wants a meet-up. Mediation or some crap."

"And you're actually going to go?" Daryl seemed to agree with her incredulous tone. It seemed he'd stopped by to commiserate as much as to fill her in on the latest developments.

"Aint got no choice. It's Rick's call, and he and Hershel think it's worth a shot." Michonne scoffed, and Daryl pressed his lips together as if staving off further angry comment on the matter. "Rick wants me and Hershel there. Governor's bringin' two 'a his people too." He paused and looked away. "Andrea's the one to set it up so I guess she's taggin' along."

Michonne grew even more alert at that last part. "Then I'm coming too. There's no telling what you're walking into."

He was shaking his head before she could even finish her statement, as if having anticipated her demand. "No can do. If it were up to me, I'd let you have right at him. But Rick and Hershel think they gotta take the chance that this'll turn into somethin' that aint a complete con. They were talkin' negotiation terms and everything."

"It is though. A complete con."

Daryl agreed. "It's decided. Can't do nothin' but be ready."

"There's no way to be ready for a man like that. He'll betray you, and then we'll all pay the price. Some of us more than others," she added, frowning.

"Hey, it aint all gone completely to shit yet. Don't write Rick off. I know he's been stressed, but he's a good guy. And whatever happened on the road with y'all must've done some good as far as I can tell. I didn't get the whole story but he seemed cool about how it all went down.

She wasn't reassured. This whole mediation thing was a ruse. It was obvious—Michonne had seen it so many times before. But Daryl was right. It wasn't either of their calls. And at least he'd be there to provide some skepticism and maybe spark a bit of fear into those assholes at Woodbury. Blake's right hand man, Milton, wouldn't be difficult, but Martinez might be a match for Daryl.

"Is Merle cooperating by giving you guys some intel? If not, at least let me brief you before you go."

Daryl tensed. "Yeah, we gon' meet with him in a bit and see what's what. If we need more, we'll holler at you in the mornin'." She nodded, glad that at least she wouldn't be expected to stay for tonight, although if they needed to have stuff ready, she would do whatever it took to lawyer them up.

"Hey, don't you and Merle kill each other while we're gone. I'll kick both your asses when I come back if there's a bloodbath." His face softened into the faintest hint of a grin. "Wouldn't mind bein' a fly on the wall to watch Glenn tryin' to keep you two in line."

Although she thought about being mad at his dig, she grinned at his joking instead. "Glenn'll surprise you. He's got some fire in him. And I like him so I won't start anything with Merle … unless he starts something first." Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. She broke into a full-blown smile at that which made him frown. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior."

"It aint that," quick to clarify. "It's … never mind." Michonne furrowed her brow, questioning. "He apologize to you?"

Michonne rolled her eyes. "Is that what he was trying to do?" They smirked at each other. "He offered what he thought was an apology which is about the best I can expect from him. And I didn't kill him so there's that."

Smirking, Daryl accepted her conclusion with a shrug. "I'll take what I can get on it." He stood up and turned her chair back around the right way. "Anyway, just fillin' you in and makin' sure the trip today was alright, you being my responsibility."

With all the daily activity, it was easy for her to forget that Daryl was technically her supervisor at this point. She found the idea oddly amusing. "It went fine." Her expression softened along with her voice, which Daryl certainly noted but didn't call attention to it. "Did you get your paperwork?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I got it. Nice work. Maybe we got us a run 'a good luck." Daryl didn't strike her as the kind of guy to dole out praise so she appreciated the acknowledgment.

"Maybe," Michonne said. Her tone was neutral since she truly didn't know what to make of that kind of prediction. She hoped he was right though.

TBC …


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

On the way back to AGD from the Woodbury meeting, the vibe in the car let Daryl know that some shit had gone down, even though Rick wasn't saying what. The boss was keeping his cards close to his chest, but it didn't take a shrink to see that he was wrestling with some big thoughts.

Hershel kept silent on the matter too. The two of them would probably talk it out when they got back, and that was fine with Daryl. He didn't need to be in on the back and forth when they made the big decisions—as long as they told him what needed doing, he'd get on it. He trusted their judgment and owed him the loyalty.

The meeting hadn't been what he expected. He thought they'd all sit around at some big conference table and go back and forth about shit they were never going to agree on. Daryl didn't think he'd do much more than size up the competition and look formidable. That's why Rick brings along the muscle when he needs to.

Yet, mostly, Rick and the Governor spoke alone, foregoing even the intermediary. That left him and Hershel to wander outside in the large, empty lobby with their Woodbury counterparts. And Andrea, after Rick and the Governor threw her out.

Surprisingly, when she wasn't being a stubborn fool, Andrea found time to ask about Michonne. He'd lost a lot of respect for his former colleague, her being in cahoots with the Governor all this time, but that raised his esteem back up for her a little. It was nice to know that the woman gave a shit after all. Although Michonne could rival him on being closed off, he recognized her hurt over Andrea's betrayal. He couldn't ignore it after Andrea's visit to AGD and made it a point to check in with Michonne about it. The woman had mostly brushed him off, but some small part of his efforts had helped, he was sure of it.

He and Andrea didn't speak much on the matter, though he told her that Michonne was fitting in just fine. Michonne didn't talk much or put on a rosy face, but she worked hard and did her part. Andrea seemed pleased by that and asked that he and Hershel make sure she didn't run off on her own again. Andrea had called it her natural instinct.

There was a story there, no doubt.

Most of the time, Daryl kept his eyes on Martinez, the Governor's muscle. The man had sized him up, probably wondering all sorts of stuff about Merle's little brother. They were on opposite sides, yet, whether he liked it or not, there was a familiarity between them, the understanding of men who knew what needed to be done. They'd let the decision-makers run around in circles and then step in when all the talking was done and only action remained.

At the end of the day, it didn't seem that much had changed between the two camps with the way things were left, except for whatever Rick was stewing about. When they got back to the AGD complex, Daryl took his leave and left the older men to hash out whatever weighed on Rick's mind. If they needed his input, they knew where to find him.

When he got back to his office, Merle sat at his desk, piles of folders scattered on the surface and his knife out, tensely poking at whatever he could get his hands on: paper, the trashcan at his feet, the desk itself.

"What I tell you 'bout this shit?" Daryl reprimanded lightly, in no mood for any of his brother's tantrums.

"And what I tell you 'bout comin' round puttin' on airs and actin' like you got sway over what I do?" Daryl turned to scrutinize his brother. He was twitchy and agitated. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought his brother was tweaking on something as edgy as he seemed right now.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

Merle's mouth twisted down in a grimace. "What's wrong with me is all these chicken-shit assholes you runnin' with now. Don't even got sense enough to take hold of an opportunity when it sits right on their lap and takes a shit."

The dread further crept up Daryl's spine. "What did you do?"

Scoffing, Merle stuck his knife especially hard into the plastic trashcan. "I didn't do nothin', and neither did your little Korean buddy or that yellow-bellied pansy Michonne, hiding behind that kid when we could have been kickin' ass and takin' the Governor by surprise. Me and girlie coulda hit him where it hurt. Color me shocked that she pussied out since I know she wants a piece of Phillip Blake real bad. But you folks got her all domesticated."

For whatever reason, it rubbed him the wrong way to hear Merle talking about Michonne and Glenn like that, as if Michonne was some dog and Glenn hadn't already proven himself a man equal to anybody at AGD or Woodbury. Merle had messed things up for them enough without all the shit-talking and drama it sounded like he caused. And he needed to stop trying to run things around here.

"Take him by surprise and do what, Merle? All's that woulda done was cause trouble. Michonne and Glenn know that and you should too."

"Aint that what the man needs? Just gotta find somebody 'round here with spine enough to give it to 'em." The fire had returned to Merle's eyes as he got more riled up thinking about his thwarted plan.

"We were at that meeting so you needed to leave Woodbury the hell alone until Rick gives the go ahead. You run off tryin' to do your own thing, and you could ruin shit for everybody." Daryl wondered when he started towing the AGD teamwork line so hard and then decided that he was okay with that.

Merle, however, remained unimpressed with Daryl's split loyalty. Daryl figured Merle couldn't really handle not having his little brother follow blindly behind him at every move. It wasn't that easy for Daryl either, still he knew being his own man counted more now than it ever did before the world changed.

The disgust returned to Merle's expression. "Look at you, actin' like employee 'a the month. Never thought I'd see the day when my little brother hid under the skirts of The Man just to make a buck. We're Dixons. We take care of our own shit and do what we want. We don't wait for orders and follow somebody else's plan."

Standing rigidly in front of his desk, Daryl glared at his brother. "You were in the military. You know how this goes, don't act like I'm the only one. You said yourself we need to watch ourselves with the Governor, not go off divided and half-cocked 'cause you're bored. Man, we done gone through this before." They both cringed at the rare mention of their failed partnership before returning to AGD.

Merle backed off a little, leaning back in his chair and kicking at the overturned trashcan. "Well, I'm for damn sure bored. But I aint stupid. It was a good plan to do some damage and make some shit happen while y'all had him distracted. There are plenty of investors we could have gone after and got on our side just in the few hours y'all were running your mouths outside 'a town."

Daryl shook his head. "You don't know that. And you can't be runnin' shit like that behind Rick's back. It could have blown up in our face and then where'd we be? You aint got no stake in this but AGD's got folks countin' on us to fix things."

"I got stakes." Merle's somber admission caught Daryl's attention again. "Just need to figure out how to play into 'em." Daryl didn't like the sound of that. Merle became his own worst enemy when he got to being unpredictable.

He sighed. "Alls I'm sayin' is be patient. We got a good gig here. We could work things out like we planned before, 'cept actually make a go of it." It was difficult to know how that would sit with Merle. He'd grown accustomed to running things and expecting Daryl to agree. But right now, he needed to let Daryl take the lead and make things right for the both of them. Carol had already tried to counsel him about not letting his brother tear him down, reminding him that he had a place at AGD, a good situation with folks who had turned into family. Merle was his blood, but that didn't mean he was good for him, Carol had said.

It seemed that Merle was thinking about Daryl's advice. Or at least he had stopped stabbing and kicking at things and had turned his garbage can back around. Before Daryl could hit the point home, his office phone rang at the desk.

Glancing at the number, he yanked the phone off its cradle. "Yeah," he answered gruffly. "Alright, I'll be over." He hung up and grabbed his cell phone he'd thrown haphazardly into his office chair when he'd come into the room.

Merle scowled, his foul mood flaring back up. "Does the master summon?"

"Fuck you, Merle," Daryl said without any real fire, feeling a little defensive. The call had been from Ms. Richards letting Daryl know that Rick wanted to see him ASAP. "Just stay outta trouble while I'm gone. Can you do that?"

"I'm still here and everything's in one piece." Daryl glanced down at the trashcan and Merle kicked it under the desk. "I aint a damn baby so put the teat away 'fore I change my mind and kick your ass." Merle seemed dead serious while remaining unaware that his pouting contradicted his protestation. Daryl shook his head and walked out of the office, pocketing the phone and readjusting his jacket.

On his way to the executive wing, he turned the corner and stopped fast to avoid Michonne coming out of her office.

"Hey, I was just coming to see you and ask about the meeting."

Her body language broadcast her anxiousness. The woman had probably been lurking around all day, tight as a drum, waiting for any word. And if what Merle said was true about the in-fighting, he wouldn't be surprised if there were a few internal fires to put out. They'd left Glenn in charge and the kid was trying hard to find his footing as a leader in his and Rick's absence. The whole Woodbury situation had gotten awfully personal for him, but it was nice to hear that he knew how to keep his head.

"Went about as well as we thought. Don't think much has changed but we'll see. I'm about to go talk it out with Rick and Hershel now."

Stepping back from their missed collision, he noted in the back of his mind that she looked real nice today. Well, she always looked okay and would wear the same kind of slacks and dress shirt to work everyday. But today she had dressed down for hauling boxes and going through their archives all day with Glenn and his crew. She sported some tight cargo pants and a tank top paired with some battered boots. She probably had a blazer in her office to bump it up to business casual. She looked downright rustic right now, like she'd be ready to go stomping through the woods if she felt like it. He did like that in a woman.

And then he caught himself, stopping his thoughts from going in that direction.

"I gotta go," he added as a distraction to himself. "I'll fill you in later, but are you good? Merle just went off and I figure y'all probably had more stuff happenin' than what went down with us.

Michonne waved him off. "It's fine. It got tense but we all were antsy. His plan wasn't the right thing to do and he's pissed because he knows it."

Daryl figured that probably got to the heart of Merle's sour behavior. "My brother aint never been good at sittin' shit out."

"We get that. It's hard for us too." He bowed his head at feeling her frustration of being left behind. When he looked back up, her frown had disappeared and she watched him with softened eyes. "He was worried about you and didn't like you being out there without his backup. It made him feel powerless so he acted out."

That's not what Daryl expected to hear, and it felt strange even as he understood where it came from. Merle might have been the source of a lot of disappointment in Daryl's life but he'd also protected him too in his own way.

"Yeah," Daryl replied, not sure how else to react to Michonne's assessment.

He realized he needed to get to the other side of the floor to see what Rick wanted, yet he lingered, feeling as if there remained more to say between them. For the past few weeks, he'd found more comfort in her way of seeing things than with anyone else at the company. That developing kinship surprised him, though he didn't fight it. For once, he let himself want to get to know someone, and her working partnership started to make a lot of sense to him.

Then he recalled sitting in her office the other day and the pleasure of seeing the full impact of her smile for the first time as she joked with him. There were a lot of ways to be dangerous, and he got the feeling that she knew a few of them, even if she didn't realize it.

"Talked to Andrea a little at the meet up. She asked about you." Michonne stiffened. "Just thought you should know." He backed away and turned to head back down the hall to Rick's office, leaving her to her thoughts.

He didn't know why he'd told her that but it felt right to do it.

* * *

Daryl's thoughts were in this haze of conflict and distraction as he sat in the conference room helping to put together the materials going out for their last big investor sweep. They wouldn't be caught by surprise again after Woodbury had dropped all that drama on them, destroying business relationships and compromising many of their contacts. They were still putting the pieces back together weeks later.

But that wasn't what had him stressed out. It was the meeting he'd had with Rick the day before where it felt like he'd been asked to compromise everything he'd come to believe in the name of loyalty.

He glanced across the room at Michonne who was instructing Maggie and Glenn on a new way to process their records that would save them a ton of time and also make it impossible for anyone to breach their network of contacts if Woodbury got it into their heads to launch another digital attack. For a lawyer, she sure knew a lot of stuff that didn't have a thing to do with the law. He guessed that's what you did when you ran your own business.

Going back to his own work, Daryl bit into his lip, a nervous habit since he was a boy. It felt like he was lying to her, and even though they didn't know each other that well, she didn't deserve to be lied to.

She'd done her part around here and they were about to sell her down the river.

It disgusted him, and he'd tried to talk Rick out of it, although not that convincingly. After their trip over to King Consolidated, Daryl had seen a turnaround in Rick, a new focus that didn't remind him of a cornered animal. They'd talked about Michonne and how Rick thought she might have long-term potential after all. Carl had warmed to the woman too, and the boy had been caught poking his head into her office a few times in the past couple of days. It made sense that the newfound trust was fragile, but it surprised him to see all that buckle under anything the Governor had to say on the matter.

Daryl didn't like being on the wrong side of Rick's decision. Hershel had stuck to his guns, but Daryl couldn't bear to abandon his friend, a man who had given him chance after chance and welcomed him into the company like family. Rick had trusted him and made him his right hand. He couldn't throw that away over some woman he barely knew, no matter how shitty it felt and no matter how much he'd grown to like and respect her.

He could hear Merle in his mind, sneering at him as he questioned whether Daryl was a real man or if he would hide behind Rick rather than display some balls. But what did Merle know? Rick was right now recruiting him to do their dirty work. The whole thing went down like acid in his stomach.

Rick walked in as they wrapped things up and scanned the room to assess their progress. Daryl noted the tension around his eyes and the firmness to his stance. He'd already spoken to Merle, and it seemed as if it their plans were ready to be put into motion.

Glenn walked around the table and approached Rick at the head. "If they try to come at us through official channels, they'll hit a few bumps in the road after what we set up. We've got calls confirmed from our people at the regulatory offices and with our best investors. And Jean at the courthouse is on notice to keep her eyes out for any new Woodbury filings."

As Glenn explained, Daryl stewed even more about how things were unfolding. Michonne had come up with that idea and it was useful. It would make things better for them. Why were they throwing that away on some bullshit chance that the Governor was on the up and up? They had no idea what the man would do with Michonne once they turned her over, but it wouldn't be good. And if he'd do that to Michonne, he'd have no problems going back on his word to them. No, this plan was fucked. But it was out of his hands.

Nodding over Glenn's explanation, Rick voiced his approval of the report. "That's a good plan."

"It was Michonne's." Daryl said, not pushing too hard, but feeling emboldened by his recent thoughts on the matter.

Michonne didn't seem to be aware of any negative energy directed towards her. If anything, she looked proud of her work and happy to help out. "We don't have to win. We just have to make their getting at us more trouble than it's worth." Her attachments were starting to show, and, in that moment, Daryl felt sorry for her and for himself.

Rick averted his eyes, once again sizing up something in the distance. He turned briefly to Daryl who held his gaze and offered a barely perceptible nod before looking away too. No, he didn't like this but he'd go along with it like the good soldier Rick expected.

For some reason, Daryl felt like even though they were preparing for something big, another important part of their community threatened to unravel at the same time. It unsettled him. He needed to go talk to Merle, get his bearings and figure out how to process these newest developments.

Maybe he could find some way to save Michonne, or at least make peace with himself after everything played out.

TBC …

* * *

_**AN: Thanks for sticking with this story. I know it's a slow-going one that'll read differently once it's all out on the table. And don't worry, I'm still working on my other stories already in progress. I just pick at whatever I have the time and energy for these days. I'll try to churn out more updates on all fronts as soon as I can get my act together, haha. RL has been a bundle of craziness lately. **_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The sun had set a while back but Daryl remained where he was, a man alone with his regrets and his anger and his emptiness. He'd known his brother to be a stupid, reckless, dumbass sonofabitch. But his latest stunt took the cake. Daryl was livid and defeated over it.

And Merle, he was just gone.

The damn fool had tried to take down the Governor with the intel they'd gathered—along with Rick's ill-fated agreement to turn over Michonne and her research in exchange for leaving AGD alone. It was a cowardly, bullshit move, and the Governor wouldn't have complied, of course. But they'd been desperate and looking for any way out of their hostilities.

There'd been casualties on both sides at least. The cops had shown up at the agreed-upon rendezvous spot and taken everyone involved in the covert meeting into custody. In the building, they'd found guns, drugs, incriminating paperwork—the works. The Governor had made sure the evidence was overwhelming for when Rick and Michonne showed up, hoping to take them both out of the equation with that frame-job and whoever else showed up with them. However, Merle had shown up alone right before tipping off the cops. The plan had been to grab as much paper evidence that he could and get out but the Governor had caught him and simply altered his plan to take out Merle instead with his setup.

It was what happened afterwards that set Daryl's blood to boil.

An "accident" they'd told him when Merle's body was found dead in his jail cell as he awaited a meeting with AGD's attorney. It had been no accident; it had been a prick called the Governor and Daryl vowed to make him pay. Somehow.

Plus, there remained the fallout of the situation back at the offices, not to mention the fact that the Woodbury threat still loomed. When Rick had come to his senses and decided against selling Michonne out, Daryl had been relieved. He'd come to appreciate what their newest hire could do for the company. Everything she did showed off her intelligence and quickness. Her no bullshit attitude remained abrasive to some, but she wasn't a bitch, just aloof and guarded; protective of herself in the way you had to be when you're used to being on your own for so long. Besides, he rather liked the fact that she was so straightforward. It saved him a lot of grief, and he actually found her kind of funny when she tore into someone for being a dumbass.

He'd thought Rick saw her usefulness too. They'd gone on that business trip together and he'd had nothing but good things to say afterward, Carl too. It seemed as if they were all turning a corner on the luck and trust front. The negotiations with the Governor had undone all that. Rick's anxiety returned when he realized just how high the stakes were and just what a psychopath the Governor turned out to be.

It still didn't make no damn sense to Daryl why Woodbury wanted anything to do with an outfit like AGD. But those bastards were clearly greedy and used to fucking with people because they could. The folks he met—the Martinez guy and the braniac Milton— they didn't strike him as crazy like the Governor so why were they following his orders?

Maybe they were saying the same thing about him.

It didn't matter now because his brother was dead and those assholes were behind it for sure, if not directly then in some kind of covert move. That last conversation he'd had with his brother loomed. Merle's criticism. Merle's hurt and fear. Merle's questions about whether he wanted Rick to reconsider turning over Michonne as if he knew the woman somehow mattered to Daryl just as much as Rick doing the right thing by them all.

Daryl didn't bother looking at the clock hanging by the door. He felt each second of his new status as the last Dixon standing. The darkness and lack of activity in the hallways told him that it was late. Almost everyone had left for the night. Rick had sat with him for a while after getting the news, not saying much but assuring him that they'd make the Governor pay for what he did. He looked about as worn out as Daryl, having met with the staff and Board of Directors about everything that'd been going on the past several weeks. He'd come clean on their struggles and it released the incredible weight off the man, but it didn't make any of the problems magically go away. Before leaving to take care of business and then get home to his kids, he'd grasped Daryl's shoulder in solidarity, mirroring his earlier assurances that they were all family, despite his or Merle's dubious choices.

Carol had stopped in, cooing and tutting over him in that way that he'd become used to. They'd sat down and made arrangements for Merle and he'd been happy for the help but also overwhelmed and exhausted by it as well. She'd offered to take him home and make him dinner but he wasn't hungry and didn't want the company, not that it was personal. After nudging him a few more times, she accepted his decision and left him to his thoughts with a soft peck to the top of his head.

He didn't even know why he was still in the office except that he didn't quite know where to go from here. He couldn't go home and stare at the four walls of his small trailer. Usually, he loved the quiet of being in the middle of nowhere, but not tonight.

A knock on the door startled him. He frowned. It was something to get used to, having folks care enough to check on him but he tired of dealing with people and making awkward conversation over their condolences. He didn't want to deal with that anymore. He just wanted to be alone. Before he could make any sort of response, though, the door opened and Michonne stepped through. In her hand she held a bottle of local moonshine and two glasses.

No, he didn't want her company, but she'd brought a persuasive offering.

Although it was him that should be accommodating her; apologizing to her. He'd known what would likely go down and had been complicit in allowing Michonne to be framed in Merle's place. If things had gone according to Rick's plan, she'd be the one dead. Or worse. And it would have been his fault partly, even if his reasons were noble. He'd known it wasn't right but hadn't been willing to go against Rick on the matter. It was cowardly and he couldn't help but feel that he'd paid a heavy price for not speaking up.

Michonne set the glasses on his desk and tipped the bottle towards him. He nodded and she poured two generous servings before pulling up a chair and joining him on the other side of his desk. She didn't sip at the harsh liquor like he might have expected from a woman; she threw it back, like she'd been born and raised amongst folks who reveled in a stiff shot of booze when times got complicated. Knowing what little he did of her, he really should have known better than to expect anything less. He followed her lead and poured them some more.

If she was here like this, maybe it meant that they were past apologies and excuses. Maybe it was an acceptance that they all have to do what they must to get by. Sometimes you're on the winning side of that, sometimes you're not.

And sometimes nobody wins.

They sat there, nursing their trauma for who knows how long. Time stopped being a thing Daryl tracked as he allowed Michonne to refill his glass two, three, however many times it took. As the numbness set in, the outline of his control began to blur and gray around the edges. He felt himself topple into the fluidity of his raging emotions, rapidly seeping, then spilling from his well-trained controls.

At some point he stood up and staggered the few steps to Merle's side of the office, sloppily taking in the cut marks in the desk and stains on the chair from where he often spilled coffee or bits of food from his lunch. One drawer stood ajar and he could see the unorganized stack of papers crammed in the small space as if Merle had just swept his desk clean into that one compartment. The sheets poked out, as askew and unkempt as his brother had been.

Daryl leaned heavily against the desk trying to keep his balance and dislodged a light object at his foot. Stepping back, he saw that he'd toppled over Merle's trashcan. He hadn't replaced it. The knife marks from the other day, inflicted when Merle had taken out his aggression on it, clawed at Daryl's gut the moment he spotted them. Daryl remembered that it was only so many hours ago that his brother had been sitting next to him, worrying his nerves, frustrated over their inability to take out the Governor.

Merle had been right when all was said and done. That wisdom had come out in all the wrong ways but he'd been spot on, for all the good it did him in the end. If only Merle had picked a better time to be noble. If only he'd used his damn head instead of betting so caught up in being the one in charge, intent on proving to Daryl that he was the big fucking brother and would be the one to fix things.

Looking down at the distressed plastic bin, a rage filled Daryl, fueled by the alcohol and his now unleashed sorrow and regret. He forgot that he was at his place of business or that there was another person in the room with him. There was just the memory of Merle and that trashcan serving as a reminder of every stupid fucking thing Merle had done in his life to ruin things. And with those memories came all the stupid fucking things Merle did to be the best family he could to Daryl because, for most of their lives, no one else gave a shit about them.

He kicked the trashcan, feeling the satisfying give to the cheap plastic. He kicked it again and again, pressing it into the hard wood of the desk as he did so. Picking it up, dented and scratched from all the abuse, he slammed it against the desk repeatedly. The slices from Merle's knife deepened as Daryl banged it along the hard surface, showing no signs of stopping.

Daryl had always been a terrible drunk: angry, careless, often cruel. Under the haze of alcohol, he couldn't block out his insecurities and crippling sadness and bitterness that his life was nothing more than whatever dead-end hole he found himself in, usually nursing a bottle of Jim Beam or throwing back whatever crap Merle and his friends could scrounge up. If no one started anything, he'd simply brood in a corner until the drunken stupor wore off or he passed out. But the slightest provocation would set him off into blind rages where he'd fight anyone over anything at all. It didn't matter if he woke up the next day with a sore jaw or black eye or a throbbing nose covered in dried blood that seeped down to his mouth.

The familiar chaos felt good to Daryl as he continued to throw the trashcan around, beating down Merle's chair and desk, slamming the trashcan into the ground and stomping on it as best he could in his condition. For the briefest of moments, he registered movement across the room but didn't spare Michonne much of his attention as she shut the door and then returned to her chair to poor another shot. Otherwise, she failed to react to his tirade, wisely choosing to let him get it out of his system.

After a good amount of time throwing around Merle's sparse belongings in the office and thoroughly destroying the knife-pocked trashcan, Daryl stood at the corner of Merle's desk, breathing hard and pursing his lips tight to keep from screaming and howling. The torrent of his feelings was ebbing and it was almost unwelcome because he wanted to continue feeling that pain. He longed to hold onto it so he wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath where Merle would become a memory and this thing that he'd think about in the past tense. Turning, he collapsed back into his office chair, his world spinning around him. He flopped his head to the side and stared out of his window where he could see the moon shining high in the sky.

He had no idea what time it was but the woman across from him didn't seem concerned in the least. She sat in her chair, leaned back with her arm extended as she ran long, silent fingers against the rim of her glass. Her eyes weren't focused on anything in particular nor did she react to him at all. Apparently, the alcohol had the opposite effect on her, calming her, since she didn't appear to have that tightly coiled look about her that had become her suit of armor. In the fog of his rapidly cooling temper, he remembered that her day had been shit too—and that she hadn't deserved it.

Clumsily, he reached for the bottle and poured her another round before refilling his own glass.

* * *

It was well past midnight when she dragged him into his trailer and threw him across the bed in a heap. He didn't protest; he was too far gone for that. All he knew was that the pain had gone away for a while.

He watched her with bleary eyes and the panic set in: of being alone, of being left behind, of being powerless to save the people closest to him. He wondered if she'd be willing to stay with him and help him forget for just a little longer. Spending the evening throwing back booze with her had ignited something.

He'd realized that she was fierce, but again, he recognized the familiar in her too, even though they seemed so different on the surface. She kept her feelings wrapped so tightly inside, yet he could tell that she felt things deeply. She'd learned how to keep her ties to a minimum, just like he did. No doubt she had her own reasons for such a solitary life. He was curious how that came about because he'd bet she wasn't always like that.

And clearly the woman could drink him under the table.

His mind jumped around to consider her intentions as she filled a large glass with water and set it by his bed. She helped him kick off his shoes and shed his jacket but made no move to remove any other item of clothing.

When he focused on her movements to help clear his booze-soaked mind, all that resonated was how incredible she looked right now. That and how he hadn't been scared when they'd sat in his office just now, not saying a word, just drinking and being. The darkness in the room obscured her features but the light shining in from the clear night cast her in a gentle glow that hit across her cheek and along her neck when she turned her head this way or that. As she moved at his side, he imagined her leaning over and having all that dark luminescence melt into him, pour into his soul and fill him with whatever strength that seemed to come so instinctively for her. He imagined that she'd be all softness and coaxing pressure and that he would welcome her and breathe her in until he had his fill. He would simply let her essence settle in for as long as it took.

He rolled over to the end of his bed and caught her arm before she moved away. She looked down at him, not with sympathy or pity but with understanding, with determination. He opened his mouth to say anything that would keep her with him but no words came out.

Michonne smiled at his sloppiness and pushed him back on the bed. "Get some rest, Dixon." Those were the first words she'd spoken to him since she'd walked into his office. She turned away and shouldered the bag she'd brought in with her.

He couldn't let it end like this.

"Hey," he called out, now settling into his dead weight, pushing down on his mattress. "Just, wait a minute." Michonne's furrowed brows made him think she wouldn't comply, but she walked over to where he lay. She sat on the edge of the bed and gazed down at him again. Daryl's head was spinning so he rolled onto his back and tried to concentrate on one spot. His eyes found the swell of her cheek and he followed the smooth skin to the corner of her mouth. His stomach lurched as her lips pointed up into a grin at his wavering attempts to communicate with her. When his eyes retraced their path, he noticed the slightest dimple, which sparked a grin of his own.

Daryl raised his hand up and dropped it before he could bring it down on her arm. His coordination wasn't the best and he was liable to get himself in trouble if his hands followed where his mind insisted on wandering.

"Just wanted to say," he slurred, "need to tell ya …" The thoughts were there but blocked and clouded by his compromised motor functioning.

Forgetting his earlier caution he reached up again and grasped her arm. Her muscles were firm and her skin as smooth as he'd hoped. Would all of her be this solid if he covered her with his body; would her sturdy form yield to his? Was he man enough to ask if she'd take that kind of leap with him? Would it ease this ache that threatened to haunt him deep into his dreams of lost family and bold demons, future battles and fallen brothers and sisters? He imagined pulling her to him so he could prove his worth to someone who understood his distance. The way she'd shown up tonight, being everything he needed in that moment, made him think that he'd find the answers in their connection. He was worth something if he could make her feel good—and he could survive this ache if he lost himself in the pleasure she'd give to him. No taste of her would go undiscovered, no depth unplundered. Neither had to hold back out here in the sticks with only the trees and critters for company.

But that didn't seem right, just a roll in the hay as he'd done to fill other difficult nights with a handful of nameless, long-forgotten women he'd take up with over the years. What if she could just lay down next to him, maybe hold him for a while and let her arms wrap around him in comfort, just as her company had in his office earlier? What if she would just hold his hand for a while?

If she would accept him, it would make him whole again, his plastered brain told him.

As suddenly as it flared, he shook his head of these foolish thoughts. That wasn't him, the kind of guy to just make a move. In fact, there were a lot of things lately that he wasn't man enough for. Images flashed of a cold, dead Merle, lying on the table as he identified the body. Blurry images lingered of a warm, silently vibrant woman, still alive despite his betrayals and sitting so patiently at his side as he collected his thoughts and reigned in his base impulses. She waited for him to speak.

Blinking in slow motion, he did his best to face her, meet her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She stilled at his admission but didn't pull away.

He was a modest, quiet man and he didn't have words to convey any of the jumbled rationalizations or plans toppling from moment to moment in his mind. His attraction to her was fleeting and pulsing, rising to the surface before submerging itself in a pool of fear and confusion and uncertainty. When affection inevitably returned, it was replaced by guilt. He couldn't hold onto it with her eyes on him, expecting … something. He willed himself to focus and reign in everything he could into one coherent stream of consciousness.

And what he lacked in emotional stability right now, he made up for in honed instinct. What he did have was an understanding of the one thing he and Michonne shared right now unmarred by booze or insecurity. They had vengeance.

"Whatever you got planned for him, I'm in. That bastard is gonna pay." Michonne's eyes steeled at the mention of their nemesis but then softened after letting his words sink in.

Her tight smile wavered in the dimness. "I'll stay until then. We'll take him down."

Daryl waved her off, slapping at her arm in the process. She was warm against the back of his hand. "Aint goin' nowhere. Carl said you was one of us. Rick knows it too, just got it twisted in his head tryin' to keep us safe." He waved his hand around as if that would explain everything. He tossed his head against the pillow. "Shouldn't 'a let it get that far. Won't let nobody do you wrong again," he slurred.

They were in this together whether she liked it or not. She nodded.

She reached up and took his hand still loosely holding her arm, squeezing it before laying it across his chest. It was a quick contact, over before he thought to hold on. Because he was so drunk, he could have imagined it but he thought he saw the slightest flare of … something in her expression before it ghosted away. But as she stood, she brushed his hair back, her strong fingers a welcome drift across his skin as she touched him. He closed his eyes to it, succumbing to his overwhelming inebriation.

From a faraway place, he heard the click of the door closing and the cab they'd arrived in pulling away. He drifted off to sleep he replayed the soft pressure of her touch and wondered if her kiss would give him the same burning satisfaction as the moonshine she'd shared with him.

TBC…

* * *

_**AN: And another chapter in the can for you. I have so much already written for this story (and my other stories too) and I wish I could throw all of it out there for y'all to experience. But alas, work has been (happily) keeping me very, very, very occupied in the last few weeks which cuts down on my writing/editing time. But during my next respite, which I suspect will be sooner rather than later, I'm going to churn it out, just you wait and see. **_

_**Thanks for the continued support. I'm so grateful for those of you sticking it out with me. **_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Michonne stared at the box in front of her, still as stone and barely able to fight the onset of that familiar deadness spreading through her insides.

In many ways, the last week had brought relief: the court appearance and subsequent legal victory, the defeat of the Governor and elimination of Woodbury as an immediate threat. Everyone around her was tired but optimistic. It was nice to have the room to breathe after the last few tense months.

It had all come at a steep cost, though, and it hit Michonne the hardest.

Woodbury was on its way to being no more, dissolved amidst a massive scandal. The Governor had skipped town, leaving most of his employees to take the fall for his misdeeds: the illegal contracts, the extortion rings, the running of guns and drugs through their company. The executives he'd roped into his inner circle when he'd gone on the attack against AGD were all now facing criminal charges, left to hang for their part in the nefarious operations. Maybe some of them would escape serious punishment given that the Governor had certainly deceived many of them in the process of gaining their participation. But many of them also had known that they were working on the fringes of legality and had gone forward anyway instead of speaking out against it. Perhaps they feared for their jobs and genuinely believed they were doing what was best for the Woodbury, not that it mattered when they were the ones left holding the ball.

As for everyone else left in the ruins of the company, Rick had insisted they hire some of the laid off workers for AGD and was waiting on the Board's all but sure approval for it. There had been more serious casualties though—the officers injured when they'd closed in on Woodbury's organized crime connections and the narrow escape of the whistleblower who'd finally confirmed the Governor's true intentions. Then there was the most shocking fallout of all: the Governor's second-in-command, Milton, turning up dead in his office, a gunshot wound to the head.

They found Andrea a few feet away, unable to make it out of the room as she bled out from a fatal shot to the neck and shoulder.

It was anyone's guess what had gone down; Andrea had died in the ambulance before they could even stabilize her for transport to the hospital, much less get any answers. When Michonne rushed to her side, there were no last words as the normally stoic woman wept for her dear friend. Only that familiar smile and a weak squeeze of her hand passed between them before the end.

It had the Governor's machinations written all over it. Michonne wiped at the extraneous tear that escaped as she relived that tragic scene.

Right before the gruesome discovery, she'd been with Daryl and Rick, along with a newer Woodbury employee Tyreese—apparently, he and his sister escaped the company's fallout by opting out at the last minute when things didn't feel right. The small group of them had been outside waiting to give statements to the police who were still investigating what had happened. Speckled and smeared with Andrea's blood after leaving her body to the paramedics, Michonne returned to them as they loitered a short distance from the ambulance. Her two employers tried to be supportive. But seeing Andrea like that in the end had gutted her. She'd broken down right in front of them, too distraught to care about the veiled shock on their faces.

It had taken her many minutes to pull herself together, to walk away and reach for the numbness she thought she'd packed away. Thankfully, it hadn't receded too far inside her during the weeks spent at AGD. It had hovered at the front of her emotional reserve, somehow knowing she'd need it soon.

She'd thought they'd find a way to come out on the other end, she and Andrea. Yes, she'd been angry and hurt by her; she'd known that the resolution to their situation wouldn't be pretty and wondered if they'd ever recover their friendship. The option of not surviving, though, hadn't crossed her mind. It shouldn't have had to.

Now they're both ghosts, one released into the hereafter and she doomed to walk alone. Again.

That led her to this moment, a week later. The dust had settled. Andrea's affairs had been handed off to her family, her sister Amy taking over all of the arrangements, including the discrete service they'd held for her the day before. Michonne kept her practicality about her and thought it best to start closing the door on this part of her life.

Yet she sat in her temporary office at her temporary way station of a job, stalled and lacking the inertia to take that next step. Her weight took the form of the box in front of her from Andrea's Woodbury office, her effects and things she'd brought with her from their business. Someone had delivered it several days ago. Michonne hadn't opened it.

The box's existence stifled the atmosphere of her office, untouched except to move it to the corner of the room and then to her desk. Michonne simply bore silent witness to the remnants of her and her friend's former partnership. The hours passed with her doing busy work, trying her best to ignore the ticking time bomb waiting in her very tiny space. She didn't even know what was inside, but its presence threatened to invade her every move and thought, intent on defying her distance as it once more became this known thing.

She'd heard the cars coming and going outside of her window, now mostly going as the workday had ended a while ago. She'd heard the people pass back and forth on the other side of her door, the occasional cadence slowing as someone contemplated knocking. No one ever did. They left her to her processing. It's not like she expected anyone anyway. AGD had come close to using her as bait against the Governor, had put a plan into action carried out by Merle and ultimately leading to his death. They'd done it with Rick's approval and Hershel and Daryl's acquiescence. Their inability to go through with it in the end only slightly softened the sting of that. Although she accepted that they had to consider it—had eased Rick's mind on the matter for the sake of both their consciouses—it's not something easily forgotten.

Her status here couldn't even be categorized as an official employee. With the dissolution of Woodbury and the end to their emergency tactics to fight them, it was questionable how much longer she'd be around. Sure, they'd extended her contract for the standard six weeks—they'd been doing the six-week clause extension since she started. But she hadn't responded to Rick or HR yet. It might be better to just sever ties right now, move out of the area and get on with her life. She'd endured too much tragedy here. Abandoning Atlanta had been about leaving all of that heartache behind, not causing more.

This indecision felt awful and so unlike her. Her hesitance to abandon these people made no sense. She didn't really have a relationship with anyone that wasn't borne out of convenience, except for Daryl, perhaps, who'd kept a respectful but ever-present distance around her at all times. It probably had more to do with his sense of obligation for the company they'd shared after Merle's death than anything else.

A knock at the door startled her.

Before waiting for a response, the door opened and Daryl entered her office. The lights beyond him had been dimmed, signaling that they were one of the few people left on the floor. Most of the offices that she could see were darkened and there was no activity beyond what the mostly silent man caused himself as he walked towards her.

In his hand he held a bottle of whiskey. Despite her dark mood, Michonne smiled.

Had it only been a few weeks since he'd lost his brother in a similar manner and she'd shown up at his office with that moonshine, understanding that he was hurting in this way that most people could not understand? He didn't strike her as the kind of guy who needed a hug or a kind word. He simply needed to be. And she'd like to think she'd helped him with that. It hadn't been with the expectation of anything in return, just a genuine desire to give him some silent support.

When she'd dropped him off at his house, she'd gotten the distinct feeling that, in his drunken state, he'd been considering another more physical kind of distraction to numb his pain. That would have been disastrous, and deep down he'd known that too. But she'd been tempted. The look in his eyes before he'd apologized reached into her soul and took hold. She wasn't the only one who recognized the quiet appeal of Daryl Dixon, the unconventional good looks, the strong physique and rugged charm. Part of his desirability was that he had no idea how enticing he came across. So when he'd reached for her, she imagined letting him touch her, letting him guide her to his bed and clumsily explore her in his drunken state until he got what he needed to bring him a little peace. It might have brought her some peace as well. It was the idea of what came after that ultimately made her fight against the impulse. They worked together, even temporarily, and there was no going back from an affair like that.

So instead, she'd made sure he got tucked in and then took her leave. The next time she saw him, it'd returned to business as usual. They weren't buddies nor did they act more familiar. They behaved as if nothing noteworthy had transpired between them. But that night had changed things, if only subtly.

Instead of setting the bottle on her desk and taking a seat, Daryl stared down at her.

"Where are the glasses?" she asked, noticing that his other hand stood empty. Drinking straight from the bottle was certainly his style and he'd poked fun at her a few times for being prissier than he could tolerate.

Daryl went around her desk and reached for her arm, pulling her to stand. "Don't need no glass. Come on." When she'd grabbed her bag to follow, he lifted the box from her desk and led her out of the room.

Michonne wondered why they didn't just have their drink in her office, sparse and depressing as it was. Not that his office was any better. Maybe he thought to head to AGD's small cafeteria where they'd find something to drink out of. At the end of the hallway, he called for the elevator but instead of hitting the button for the lobby or the cafeteria, he hit the top floor.

The roof. She'd never been there but she had heard of other employees going up there to smoke or gossip, sometimes even to eat their lunch when the weather was mild.

As they stepped onto the rough, uneven surface of the open space, a soft gust of wind immediately caressed her across the cheek. The evening air was warm but pleasantly humid. From their vantage point, they could see the mostly empty parking lot, save for a smattering of vehicles, her SUV and his truck included. It surprised her that he hadn't come in on Merle's motorcycle that he'd taken to driving to and from work.

Daryl didn't linger in that direction. He walked them to the other side of the space and set the bottle on the ground in front of a sturdy bench that looked out into the wooded exterior of the building. It wasn't what she'd expected, but the beautiful view demanded her attention.

The sun hadn't fully set and shades of lilac and coral streaked across the sky. The smattering of white clouds darkened at the horizon until all that brightness faded into the night and blended with the tops of the trees swaying in the wind. To one side, the occasional sign of civilization peeked out from the natural landscape: the back entrance to the facility, a dirt road leading out to the fields. To the other side, the tree line gave way to brush and then to well-worn lawn and on through to concrete and steel.

And rght next to her, sitting on the modest bench and leaning down to deposit the box on the ground, sat a simple man and a reciprocal bottle of liquor he offered to ease her overwhelming grief.

Michonne placed her bag to the side and took a seat next to him. Not speaking a word, Daryl opened up the bottle and took a swig before passing it over to her. She gingerly took the whiskey and followed his shot with a burning swallow of her own. They did this for a while until the sky inked out and the stars chased the last of the twilight beyond the curve of the earth.

They went back and forth with the bottle for a while, getting more and more relaxed as they went. After a time, Daryl called it quits, but Michonne kept going. She needed the courage to go through the box at their feet, the last traces of her friend and the life they lived intensely for what seemed like an incredibly short time.

It was Daryl who took the lid off of the box, glancing over at her to make sure it was okay.

The first item he pulled out was a shawl. It was actually Michonne's shawl that she'd kept in the tiny office they shared before Woodbury and AGD. Back then, their worries were the usual mundane matters of making rent and getting their next client. They'd pull the occasional all-nighter in that little office, and Andrea had always made it feel like a girl's night in rather than a work deadline. And her friend always insisted that they keep the heat low to save money but would often not dress warmly enough for the workday. She constantly stole Michonne's shawl until finally Michonne just forgot to ask for it back, and it ended up living with Andrea.

Michonne smiled as Daryl handed it over for her to inspect, looking back into the box that he'd placed between them. He then pulled out the keys to that tiny office space and a stack of their old business cards. Michonne picked one up and thought of all the missed opportunities, all the dreams they talked of that just evaporated at the first sign of trouble. They'd been friends before they were business partners and it seemed such a damn shame that it ended the way it did. A solitary tear slid down her cheek at the reflection.

There were a few more odds and ends, more items that Michonne had had no idea that Andrea would tote around: a tacky cat paperweight that Michonne had given her and also the soft-covered planner that Andrea favored over electronic calendaring. They were little reminders of the ways in which she'd known the woman better than most anyone else. Had Phillip Blake understood her bullet method of task management or the code she used for marking important events? Had he bothered to figure out when she was most likely to want to leave work early and get pedicures and ice cream cones?

Daryl pulled out the final item and whistled to himself. She'd forgotten about the bottle of wine.

Michonne reached for it and the tears began again. Seeing this brought it all home, the loss, the regret, the love, the hate and the abandonment; the failure to reconcile until it was too late. She ran her fingers over the label.

"We were supposed to open this when we felt like we'd finally made it together, not just freelancing and taking on a few projects but when we really established ourselves. We had all these plans …"

Daryl nodded. Retrieving the wine bottle from her, he put it back in the box with the rest of the items and closed it up. He reached into his back pocket and took out a brightly colored handkerchief and handed it to her. She wasn't quite sobbing but she was close to it and she spared a fleeting thought that she must look a mess to him.

"You should keep it," he said as she dabbed at her eyes. "The wine, I mean. When you think you done right by her, you can have yourself a glass." He bit his lip and bowed his head, no doubt sensing the embarrassed blush rise across his face. Cutting his eyes to her briefly, he grinned. "You gotta save me a little though. That looks like some good shit, right there."

Michonne laughed lightly; she couldn't help it. They both knew he didn't know anything about fine wine. This new lightness wasn't just a reaction to his joke, though. Rather, it reflected her relief because he got it. He understood.

Removing the box from the bench, Daryl returned it to the ground and pushed it underneath them where they couldn't see it. He made no move to get up. In fact, he draped an arm along the back of the bench and stretched his legs out in a casual and comfortable manner. Her eyes continued to leak tears but they were receding slowly. The handkerchief he'd handed her smelled of a crisp freshness and that delicious musky scent that she associated with him.

After a few moments of sniffling and wiping at her cheeks, she noticed movement next to her as Daryl dropped his arm from where it had rested next to her. He'd drawn it into himself but not fully. The limb hung between them, arched awkwardly near her. Just as she processed the action, he reached over and took her hand, not looking at her as he did; a study of his expression showed a contradictory mix of uncertainty and absolute resolve. His hand felt cool in hers but was rapidly warming as she held fast to him, hoping he wouldn't reconsider and pull away. Understandably, his grip conveyed both companionship and tension. His shoulders sat tightly coiled and his eyes would flicker down before squinting off into the distance despite the sun's long ago departure.

The contact hadn't been something she'd asked for or had even thought about as they sat together on the bench. But the moment he'd offered it, it seemed like yet another way in which he intuited exactly what she needed. Michonne readjusted so that their fingers intertwined and still he remained next to her, not facing her and with a gaze searching beyond the horizon.

She remembered another faraway look from him those few short weeks ago as she sat at the edge of his bed and gazed down at him. Again, she remembered that undeniable pull towards him that night, one that had started crawling up her spine once more the moment he'd walked into her office with that bottle.

As these unfiltered thoughts drifted in and out of her mind, Michonne wondered if maybe they should stop drinking together.

Yet their ability to pull each other from the edge suggested just the opposite. She realized it would disappoint her to surrender the emotional stability he'd brought her tonight. That this felt so completely unlike her was unsettling and she pushed that to the side as well.

They continued to sit in this realm of compartmentalized closeness, accepting the persistence of life around them despite their recent losses. As the minutes crept by, the urge to move closer into his warmth grew stronger. The whiskey bottle sat at her side. She'd slowed her pace but still took a drink every now and then with her free hand to keep from seeking a similarly wicked satisfaction from the man sitting beside her. Eventually, Daryl had relaxed his hold on her and allowed the natural comfort to flow between them; despite her tipsy state, she had more sense than to scare him away by being too aggressive. Even during this short time knowing each other, she'd gotten an idea of his preference for keeping people at arm's length unless he invited them in.

On the other hand, being a source of strength and an outlet for grief, reaching for someone's hand? That's invitation enough, isn't it? How can a person offer an opening like that and then shut out the inevitable plea to get closer? How could she hold back when that grief recedes in the presence of this person at her side who fills her up in inexplicable ways?

The lilting intoxication swayed to and fro inside her body as she lost herself in the weight of his hand surrounding hers. She wanted to move next to him, lay her head at his shoulder and curl into his body. Maybe he'd put his arms around her, and she'd allow this man she realized she'd come to trust protect her from everything, including herself.

Instead of doing any of this, she took another swig from the bottle.

Hours after he first strolled into her office, he drove her home in his truck. As her head rested against the window, the world already spinning from all the alcohol, she allowed her pull towards him to maintain its hold on her. She thought of asking him to come up to her apartment, into her home and into her bed; stay with her and help her forget the past week ever happened. She could so easily get lost in a man like him, so genuine and uncomplicated but deep nonetheless. At his core, he remained kind despite the scars of a hard life.

But those were also the reasons she refrained from asking, especially in her inebriated state.

When he pulled up to her building she assured him she could get to her front door without incident and left him at the curb. As she stumbled into the lobby and into the elevator, she saw that he waited at her front step still. Entering her apartment, she turned on the light switch and just happened to look out of her window in time to see him hold his spot for a beat and then drive off, assured that she'd successfully gotten in safely.

She washed up and plugged her phone into its charger. She noticed the blinking light indicating a text message. Daryl.

_Pick you up tomorrow. Call me when you get up._

Michonne smiled. Daryl Dixon was a keeper, for sure. She sighed. Maybe they all were, Rick, Carl and the Greene family; all the rest of the AGD crew she'd grown to genuinely like. Andrea would want her to stay around people at a time like this.

Especially someone like Daryl—or so she convinced herself before drifting into a listless slumber where his hand touching hers was only the beginning.

TBC …

* * *

_**AN: I promise I'm done with the melancholy chapters for a bit. The next series of scenes takes us into new territory, one that's a lot more relaxed and fun as Michonne and Daryl get to know each other even better. I'm hoping to get that chapter up in a few days. Also, since I'm not using a beta for this, apologies for any typos or wonkiness.**_

_**As always, thanks for reading and hang in there! **_


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